


Try

by broken_reverie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:39:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7146926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_reverie/pseuds/broken_reverie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Trigger-warning: self harm.] A one-shot of depression and desperation. Happens after Sirius recklessly told Snape about the Whomping Willow and Remus. Remus and Sirius' relationship is up to your own interpretation. (wolfstar)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try

[Trigger-warning: self harm.] A one-shot of depression and desperation. Happens after Sirius recklessly told Snape about the Whomping Willow and Remus. Remus and Sirius' relationship is up to your own interpretation.

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Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I only dare lay claim on my imagination.

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_"He tries to find the exit from himself but there is no door." - Dejan Stoijanvonic_

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He was tired of everything. Tired of his family, tired of his life, tired of himself. Tired of trying. Why try when nothing worked out in the end? Why try so hard to bring yourself so high only to end up lower than when you'd started?

He tried.

He had tried to conform to his family's pureblood elitism ideals when he was still a young boy. He tried to please his parents, act the part of the Black heir. That didn't work out - he got sorted into Gryffindor and that was the end of that.

He tried to prevail in his parents' abuse, to stand up to them, maintain some bit of dignity when he'd realised that all was a lost cause when he got sorted. But no, the more he resisted, the more he struggled to live another day in his parent's house, the worse it became.

He tried to stay a good friend too, but he'd messed it up whatever chances he had with that stupid, reckless prank on Snape.

He tried to maintain a facade made of charisma and pranks because he wanted not to be known as the failure of Blacks, but as the popular, witty Sirius Black. But even this veil he'd created had started cracking, poison seeping through the seams.

So he decided that he should just stop trying. His family had given up on him, his friends had given up on him, who is to say that he shouldn't give up on himself?

It didn't start with him. As far as he'd remembered, nothing started with him.

It'd started when his mother forced him to tread barefooted on the broken glass she'd hit his head with. That night, with broken ribs from his father's boot, bleeding mouth from his father's fist, he'd stared at his bleeding feet. The crisscross of dark, red lines. From the deeper cuts, he could see crimson beads of slowly edging their way out. It fascinated him, the way his blood so gracefully, unerringly escaped from his body. He hoped that he could be like this, too, and escape from his family, his life, his reality.

He learned that it hurt to walk for a few days if he cut his feet, so he never did that. He always cut where no one would think to look - above his elbows, his upper thighs. The first spell he had learned by himself was the cutting spell.

He had stopped when he got to Hogwarts, when he had befriended James, Remus and Peter. But now they wanted nothing to do with him anymore, and this was his own fault.

It was difficult, but he couldn't blame it on anyone other than himself. Meal times were the most difficult of all. He knew they didn't want to be associated with him, so he sat as far from them as he possibly could. Breakfast was easy, he would just disappear behind The Prophet while he ate. But one look at his friends and his own betrayal barred him from eating a normal portion. Lunch he decided he could do without, so he always spent it studying in the library - least of all places one might think to find him. Dinner he just grabbed an apple and a glass of milk from the kitchens.

Sirius didn't plan for himself to lose weight, but he did - a lot. He'd sustained himself on this diet for 7 weeks, now. He'd also lost himself to studying, to fill his mind other than his own betrayal, his own guilt, his loneliness.

He was now without family, without friends, what had he to lose? It was a Hogsmeade weekend. He had no one to go with, so he planned to hide out in the dorm and study ahead. He could hear his friends preparing for their trip, excited that they would go out of school, relax for a little. He could hear their easy banter, their jokes, their laughter.

_I was once part of this magical friendship, but I'd blew it._

That day, once his roommates had left, he'd stumbled into the bathroom with his wand.

His remorse, his guilt, his anger at himself all congregated into lump in his throat, formed into a mass of invisible weight upon his chest.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't cry. He drew up his sleeves, right up to his shoulders. There, he saw the fresh marks he'd left a few days ago, the jagged ridges of years ago. No, he decided, today he would mark a new area. He wouldn't care if anyone saw. Not anymore.

With the spell in his head, intent in his heart, he used his wand to draw a line 4 inches long from his wrist to his elbow. A gasp almost escaped him, his voice tripped over itself. He gulped in air - his breath hitched, a silent cry for help.

He'd never cut so deep, so long before. But if no one cared, then why should he? He stared at his forearm as the blood first trickled out at the edges, drop by drop. Then it turned into a full cascade. Good. This was the one thing that felt good to him. His sorrow, his regret, slowly transferred out of his heart to the blood flowing out of his arm. He could breathe normally again.

He became giddy, his surroundings spinning, morphing, and he realised his arm was shaking.

Out in the distance, he heard a door slam. He broke out into cold sweat, closed his eyes and rested his head against the sink. He set his arm against his thigh, too tired to close the wound.

"Sirius?" In a daze, he opened his eyes. Remus? He turned his head away. He didn't deserve Remus' help.

"SIRIUS." He wanted to respond, to apologise, to say something but he found that he couldn't. He didn't have to strength to. The world went black.

"Fucking hell, Sirius." Remus quickly carried his friend back to his bed and performed a simple healing spell. He'd lost too much blood, but Remus just gave his friend a blood nourishing potion he usually used after his transformations.

It was awhile before Sirius woke up. He could feel his heart beating in his ears, his lips were dry and his arms were still sore. And then he remembered - Remus. Tears flowed down his cheeks. How could Remus save him after he'd betrayed him? He didn't deserve his help.

Seeing Sirius stir, Remus leapt up to check on Sirius. He looked so small, a pale white child in his four poster bed. Had he even been eating?

"'m sorry, Moony. I am so, so sorry. You don't have to forgive, but know that it wasn't intentional." At the brink of death, and all he could do was apologise? Fuck, we'd really took his punishment too far.

"Look at me Sirius. I forgive you. I believe it when you say that you only did what you did out of pique. "

"No. I don't deserve your forgiveness." Sirius looked away, he couldn't bear to look at the friend he'd so recklessly betrayed. Sirius' statement was like a thousand _Avada Kedavras_ to Remus. And then he'd saw it. Peeking out from Sirius' sleeve that was folded at his elbow was the tail end of a scar. Remus deftly pushed his sleeve upwards, revealing the whole mass of white lines recent and old.

_He was already broken before we went and shatter him._

Tears sprang into Remus' eyes, grief wracking his body. How could he not have known? He looked down into Sirius' eyes, and all he could see was a ghost of a broken boy, wrecked by his past and tortured by his present.

"Sirius..." Remus trailed off, his voice broken down into sobs. "I don't blame you, Sirius, please don't blame yourself."

Sirius slid down to sit on the floor, leaning against his bed frame. He felt safer on the floor, cuddling his knees, rather then on his bed, weak and exposed. He shook his head vigorously, tears falling quickly to the floor. No, he didn't deserve Remus' kindness. He didn't deserve Remus.

Remus joined him on the floor. He took Sirius' shoulders, shook it so that Sirius would at least look at him. "Listen. I. Care. About. You. I care about you, Sirius Black."

Staring into those dark grey eyes, Remus could see the storm clear a little, where a spark of hope was ignited. "I'm so sorry, so sorry, Moony."

"I know." Remus held his friend in an embrace, covered Sirius shivering body while he cried, protecting him from himself. He could feel Sirius' bones as he held him. How did a lean, muscular teenager reduce to such a fragile, skinny boy?

Remus did not let go of Sirius until he felt his sobs lessen. He pulled back and stared in the boy's eyes. He traced the scars on Sirius' arm.

"You ready to tell me about this?" Sirius looked up at Remus, confused, hesitant. Remus' eyes encouraged him silently, he could tell from his demeanour that he'd truly forgiven him.

To Sirius, it was a great relief. He'd known he'd never have a fulfilling life without Remus in it. He nodded his head weakly. Today, he'd finally unleash his inner demons, he'd finally be able to share his deepest secrets with someone who'd forgave him even though he'd betrayed him. He'd finally found someone he'd trust with his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are very much welcome :")


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